Feed The Rage
by ilovetvalot
Summary: Post ep 5x04 "Cradle to Grave". Emily decides to drown her sorrows...in ice cream. Written in response to Kavi's TV Prompt Challenge. Co-Auth'd w/tonnie2001969


FEED THE RAGE

PROMPT: PUSHING DAISIES "COMFORT FOOD"

Frowning at the lacking contents of her dish cabinet, Emily Prentiss searched for a large bowl. Slamming her ceramic dishes around, the clanking loud in the quiet room, she growled aloud, "How could he do this!? All that work…the dedication…the devotion …and that moron steps aside. Just says 'Hey, Derek, the dimwitted dullard, step in here, take over for me!'"

While she was known for parsing her words in public, she felt no such compunction when she was in the privacy of her own home. Anything that she said at this moment was between her and her stainless steel appliances. And the last time she checked, her refrigerator wasn't exactly running out the door to share her secrets with the greater DC area.

Finally locating the deep green bowl that she KNEW from personal experience would hold a gallon of ice cream, she pulled it down, slamming it to the counter with a resounding crash. "Idiot," she muttered aloud, snatching a metal spoon from the wooden drawer to her right. "Moron!" she hissed, stabbing the spoon into the Super Chocolate Chunk ice cream violently. Scooping several heaping spoonfuls into the bowl, she reached for the paper bag on the counter, angrily dumping the contents onto the granite countertop with a satisfying plop.

"Who does it?" she asked herself aloud, ripping open the bag of M&Ms and pouring a generous amount into the bowl. "I mean, really, WHO DOES THIS?" she muttered to herself, reaching for the bag of marshmallows quickly, ripping the plastic violently, barely catching the fluffy confections as she poured them into the bowl. "He's worked too hard for this to just allow himself to be replaced!"

Ripping open the refrigerator door to her left with a vicious swing of her arm, Emily bent to search the contents. "Where in the hell is my chocolate syrup!" she yelped, wondering for a moment if her condiments were conspiring against her, a subtle plot to take out her last nerve. Spotting it hiding behind a gallon of milk, she wrenched it out of the cool confines of the icebox with a particularly sadistic glee. Slamming the door, she popped the lid and squirted an obscenely unhealthy amount on the contents of the bowl before slamming it, too, to the counter.

"I fell in love with a complete jackass!" she declared with a decidedly un-Emily like yell, grabbing her spoon again and jamming it solidly into the concoction in front of her.

"And I love you, too, Prentiss," Hotch said calmly, leaning against the door of her kitchen, staring at her with amused eyes.

Twirling around at the sound of his voice, Emily glared at the very man that had been invading her thoughts. "YOU…you don't get to speak to me right now," Emily said adamantly, pointing the metal spoon at him as she tried to yell around a mouth full of freezing ice cream.

Raising a dark brow at her, he tried not to grin at the sight in front of him. Even in her oversized FBI-logoed sweatshirt, with her hair in a messy ponytail, she was still amazing. Even if she looked at him like she could take him out with just one slash of that spoon. "Comfort food?" he asked calmly with a nod toward the bowl at her side.

"I'm sublimating my rage at you," Emily snapped, spooning another angry bite into her mouth, swallowing rapidly as she kept her eyes locked on his.

"By putting yourself in a sugar coma?" he asked, eyeing the overflowing bowl warily. "How much candy do you have IN there?" he asked peering over the rim of the bowl as he moved forward.

"Not. Enough," Emily growled, tightening her hand against the rim of her bowl as she narrowed her gaze at him.

Now that he had made his decision, he felt a freedom that he hadn't felt in a very long time. But apparently, that feeling of relief was not being shared by the woman who was sharing his life. Gazing into her flashing eyes, he fought back a laugh at her petulant expression. "It was for the best, Emily. The best decision for all of us right now."

"That's crap!" she said plainly, pushing her spoon back into the bowl and shoving another bite into her mouth, the slowly melting frozen treat sliding easily down her throat as she crunched the candy almost violently.

"I disagree. THAT is crap," he said, nodding toward the bowl. "Remind me never to allow you to make Jack a snack when he comes home," he added, shaking his head mock-sadly at the contents of the green bowl. Exactly how many M & Ms could fit in that bowl, anyway?

"Funny," Emily bit out around the spoon, intent on filling her stomach with as much chocolate as she could in a very short amount of time. "Real funny, Funny Man."

Raising an eyebrow at her obvious discontent, Hotch stepped closer. Wrapping warm hands around her narrow hips, Hotch began to attempt to pull Emily away from the counter. "Come on, Emily."

"Hell, no. I want my ice cream," she said, attempting to step out of his arms as she kept close to her chocolate.

Cocking his head, Hotch grinned at her belligerent expression. The tight little frown, the furrowed brows, the hand wrapped around the metal spoon in a death grip. This was why he'd fallen in love with her…that innate fire that burned within her. Murmuring warmly against her ear, he said, "I think I can come up with a much better way to sublimate your so-called rage, Prentiss."

Measuring him with a withering stare, Emily finally jerked her head in agreement. Snaking her hand out as she grabbed the bowl behind her as he began dragging her toward the door, she muttered, "Fine! But, I'm taking the ice cream."

"By all means, bring the ice cream," Hotch said, nodding seriously as his eyes laughed, tightening his grip on her thin hand. He raised his eyebrow as he said, a grin tilting his lips, "We'll need something to cool us off eventually."

FINIS


End file.
